Helping Those Who Are Grieving

As someone who is grieving I have noticed that there is a huge range of ways that people react to me and my grief. It will depend on so many factors, like their relationship to John, their relatioship to me, whether they have experienced their own grief or witnessed someone else's in the past. There are some people who have always known just the right thing to say at the right time, those who don't shy away from talking about John, or asking me how I'm doing in just the right way - open to really listening to the response and ready to respond accordingly. I have found that some of those closest to me are the ones who struggle the most. I don't think I've ever tried to hide my pain, but I think that people see what they want to see. Maybe they can't cope with the constant reminder that the pain is still there, and will always be.

So, I thought I would try and explain a few things for anyone who finds that they don't know how to react or what to say to those in grief.

Grief hits us in more ways than one - we are not only grieving for the person we've lost, we are also grieving for the future we have been denied and the self we no longer are.

Grief isn't the only emotion we have to contend with. There is also guilt - guilt that we didn't do more to save them; survivor's guilt that our loved one was the better person and we should have been the one to be taken; guilt that we weren't kinder, more patient and more loving to the one we miss.

We also lose our confidence - making tiny decisions becomes infinitely more difficult. We can't think straight, and are unable to analyse options and weigh up information - we doubt ourselves over everything. We have to be both parents to our children and both children to our parents somehow. We are trying so hard to support others, to act normal so those around us don't feel bad, that we forget to look after ourselves and give ourselves the time we need to heal.

We are changed forever. We may do everything "as usual," but it’s without presence. We work. We cook. We smile. We are on autopilot. The psyche's way of holding itself together when falling apart isn't an option. Faking it until we make it. Please be patient with us while we get ourselves back on track.

We don't have the energy for trivial problems. We aren't the right person to talk to about that latest work drama or that you can't find a good deal on a winter vacation. We avoid long conversations. We rely on standard responses like "I'm fine," "later," "not now." We've shut down and retreated inside ourselves - the huge recent event in our lives makes everything else pale in comparison. Very little matters to us anymore and nothing is of interest.

Grief triggers intense, involuntary physical stress responses, causing symptoms like fatigue, chest tightness, insomnia, headaches, and digestive issues. It weakens the immune system, increasing susceptibility to illness, and can cause cardiovascular issues like high blood pressure or rapid heart rate. These physical manifestations often result from a flood of stress hormones that affect the body's systems. We are exhausted. Even the easiest things are hard. We can't show up in the ways we used to. We become quieter, give short replies. Please be gentle with us.

Just because we are smiling, or even not crying, does not mean we are "better". We are broken. You have no idea what goes on behind closed doors and in our heads. It is DARK. When you've cradled the person that means everything to you and watched as they take their last breath that scene will play over an over for you for a long time. Days like Valentine's day, Christmas and anniversaries will bring it back year after year.

Please bring up their name. We promise you aren't going to remind us that they are dead. We think about it constantly. The only thing worse than losing them is feeling like we are continually losing them in the memory of the people left. Tell stories. Ask us about them. Don't avoid our pain. Hearing their name is a balm to the aching in our hearts.

Just because we cry doesn't mean it is necessarily a problem for us. Our tears remind us of our love and are a necessary outlet for our emotions when they become too much. Sometimes just a moment is enough. Feeling comfortable and safe enough to cry in front of someone who isn't scared of our pain is a blessing. We appreciate anyone who gives us the gift of just being there, with understanding and sympathy but without pity and ceremony.

We appreciate anyone who says "tell me what you need". But we don't even know. Thinking about and asking for things is another huge task and it is exhausting. Just come up with a couple things you can do to help and ask which one we would like. Or just say "I'm bringing dinner by tonight, what time works?" or something similar. We become overly polite. We don't ask, demand or complain. "Whatever works for you." "I'm okay." "Don't worry." We don't want to become a burden.

Socializing is exhausting. It is performing. While we may want to see certain people for certain things, we likely aren't up to big gatherings or events. Invite us anyway with a "you probably aren't up for this, but wanted to invite you so you know you are always welcome and we are thinking of you". We appreciate the gesture and we appreciate the easy out - we will be back at some point and it's nice to know that the invitations will still be there when we are ready.

If you don't know what to say, just try, "I love you," "I'm thinking of you," I'm here". Don't get upset if we don't write back. Keep checking in and rest assured that we appreciate knowing we are in your thoughts and that you haven't left us too.

We stop talking about the future. We can't conceive of plans for the time ahead without our loved one. We cannot imagine a future where we look forward to things and enjoy them and even find joy again. Life shrinks into single days and even minutes as the brain narrows the horizon as a survival technique just to get us through to tomorrow.

Grief can take months and years to fade, and we will probably take it with us when we go. For me, I feel so different in myself that I assume people can see it on the outside too - as if I'm wearing some kind of morbid badge of honour. Being a widow sets me apart from most other people - it's a new title I didn't ever want and it's become part of my identity, but most other people have no idea. I try to be patient with others, but there are times that I want to yell at people "my husband is dead you know, and you have no idea how difficult that is."

So, I guess the main thing is: don't assume we are moving on and getting over it. Grief is a permanent state - part of who we become. I may need to ask for patience, understanding and forgiveness again along the way and hopefully others will understand that it is probably the grief rearing it's wretched head again. Thank you.